Deeds and Words
by ayouintervention
Summary: Peeta has always thought of himself as a gentleman. But even though he tries to hold himself to that code, it doesn't always work out. After a run in with Johanna Mason in an elevator, he explores what that being a gentleman means terms of his own pleasure.
1. Chapter 1

He prided himself on being a gentleman. At least that's what Peeta told himself when he looked in the mirror: "You are a gentleman." He lived life by simple guidelines: Hold the door, say please and thank you, wait your turn, never ask for what wasn't being offered… And being a gentleman worked for him, almost all of the time, unless his mother was angry, or there wasn't enough food to go around or something else entirely. Like now, lying here in bed with his cock hard and pushing against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention in a most ungentlemanly way.

He was almost embarrassed at how turned on and ready he was, a feeling of tightness and tension in his abdomen, and a solid, warm ache in his groin. If he were anybody else, he might be mad at the cause of all this: Johanna Mason from District 7. Johanna Mason, District 7 and her elevator strip tease and the first pair of breasts he had actually seen up close and personal.

The grin on her face had been knowing and her eyes half-lidded and coy when she asked him to unzip her gown. Warmth seemed to radiate off her body and fill the small glass enclosure. When she had shucked the gown down to the floor, she had turned to him and held his gaze with her eyes. And then, in the silent moments between floors, his eyes had wandered. They had passed down the creamy skin of her long neck, taking in the rounded curves of her breasts. Gentlemanly or not, Peeta imagined her breasts in his hands, pale and smooth, topped with dark pink nipples, peaked and demanding attention. He had thought about touching them, twisting them, rolling his tongue across them.

Before the elevator had opened onto her floor, his eyes had slid just a little lower. Her black underwear was filmy and sheer, barely covering anything. It was half decoration as much as it was functional. She was bare there, he saw, and wondered if it was a personal choice or a stylists' one. Having seen her skill with an axe, it would take a brave person to force anything onto her against her will.

"What do you think, now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?" she had asked, eyebrows arching and a smile on her lips. Sex wasn't even something he'd felt capable thinking of in the last six months since the games. But when she asked it, he could remember wanting and desire that he had felt before. He could remember the quiet of his stifled cries in his room, his hand wrapped around himself, finding fulfillment in thoughts of Katniss's mouth, his hands in her hair and their bodies close together.

And now here he was again, alone in his room, desire making his heartbeat thunder in his ears and denying him any other thought but that of fulfillment. Opening his palm, he pressed his hand flat against the stiffness of his cock, rubbing softly through the fabric. A garbled moan escaped his mouth. He coughed, covering the noise in the quiet of his room. There was a time to be a gentleman and a time not to be. Reaching to unfasten the pants, he lifted his hips, slipping both pants and undergarments down his body.

Peeta fell back against the sheets. Freed from the fabric confines, his erection continued to demand attention. Taking his hand back to his cock, he stroked once, tentatively. At the feel of the tips of his fingers gliding over his warm skin, he moaned softly through closed lips. His thumb brushed along the head of his cock, feeling the ridge where it flared and the sensitive skin underneath it. Brushing over the tip, he spread a small amount of the wetness gathering there.

Closing his eyes, he wrapped his hand fully around himself. Gently squeezing, he slid his hand up his shaft. Johanna flashed in mind, her cream and pink breasts and her wry mouth. Peeta paused, almost instantly feeling guilt; this wasn't what or who he usually imagined. The ache in his groin was growing more pronounced and guilt seemed less and less relevant now.

His hand stroked down his stiffness, eyes closing again. He had never thought about sleeping with anyone before, but now those were the thoughts dancing before his eyes. Peeta could imagine Johanna, spread out before him, eyes sparkling and mouth curled into a smile as she held her bare self open to him. Hand continuing to squeeze and pulse over his cock, he gutturally moaned imagining her delicate pinkness. He imagined watching the beginnings of pleasure on her face, sliding his fingers over the slick wetness between her legs. Pausing his strokes he cupped his balls, biting his lip against the sounds threatening to escape.

As he started to slide his hand up and down again, pumping his cock, he imagined the warmth of Johanna surrounding his fingers as he explored. Slipping his fingers in and out of her, he would lower his head to her round breasts, nipping and licking her nipples. Fingers still inside her, he would let his thumb drift up, rubbing softly against her clit. He was half panting and half moaning now, still controlling the strokes of his cock, but his thigh muscles were trembling with restraint. Turning his head, he let his face rest against the cool pillow next to him, covering his sounds.

With his fingers still deep inside her and the building pressure of his thumb on her clit, he would make her come first. Not just because ladies first was proper, but because it made him want his own pleasure more. He imagined her crying out, a wavering high pitched cries as she squeezed around his fingers. He stroked himself a little quicker now, moaning into the pillow. As Johanna lay there, spread open and soaked in her pleasure, he would pull his fingers out and lick them clean. He would show her how good she tasted, what more there could be to come from this. Then he would press his groin to her, his cock sliding against her bare wetness. While she was still recovering from her own orgasm, he would push inside her, sliding fully into her and feeling her squeeze around him.

Peeta's hand was tight on his dick now, his hips pushing up into his hand in time with his strokes. A half whimper escaped his mouth as he loosed his grip a bit to make this last longer. When he tried to imagine he was fully inside her, his fantasy began to falter. He knew enough about the mechanics to know what was involved, how it could feel, but still something felt off. His strokes stayed slow as his mind drifted back to that morning, as he and Katniss linked hands to ride out for the tributes' parade. For the first time in months she had looked at him in a way that instead of feeling wounded, left him warm.

He was quiet a moment, his hand still. He thought of Katniss, his favorite things about her, her hair and her mouth. The parade that morning had been a glorious expression of both – the sun had caught the red highlights in the intricate braids in her hair, her mouth had been hard set and determined. Peeta came back to the way she had looked at him, the warmth in her eyes.

Thoughts of Johanna's bare pink flesh began to fade as Peeta imagined how things could have ended today instead of this. They would have come back to this room hand in hand and she would have pulled him to her, back against the door and bodies rubbing together. Turning himself over to this fantasy, Peeta resumed stroking his stiff cock, thumb spreading his precome over his shaft. Pinned between Peeta and the door, Katniss' head would tilt up, their mouths meet. He would take his time with her lips; tongues intertwining, pushing his hips into her body and letting her feel his arousal. Then he would tangle his hand in her hair, tilting her head to kiss his way, down her jaw, along the sensitive skin of her neck. Her hands would be in his hair, nails gently scratching his neck.

Finding their way to the edge of the bed, he would kneel before her, pushing her dress up over her hips. In his mind's eye, Katniss didn't bother with the pretense of underwear the way Johanna had, and when she opened her legs to him, there was nothing separating them. Looking up from where he knelt between her knees, he would meet her eyes, darkened with makeup and wanting, and she would know what was coming. This moment was not a time to waste with fingers. Eyes never parting hers, his mouth would be on her, licking slowly through her folds, feeling her knees quiver around his face when he tongue pressed against her clit.

Moaning now, over and over again, Peeta thrust into his hand. He could imagine Johanna's breasts when he closed his eyes, but his mind was on Katniss. With his mouth against her, tongue flicking across her clit, he imagined Katniss biting her lip and whimpering to hold in her sounds of pleasure. He would suck the swollen nub of her clit into his mouth, putting the pressure of his lips and tongue circling and swirling against her. He could imagine her thighs quivering next to him; her hands on his shoulders and in his hair holding herself up. Moans punctuating her words and breath short, he would make her call out his name. His tongue would circle, pushing and gliding against her until she finally shook with her orgasm, calling out "Peeta" over and over again.

The thought of Katniss' orgasm, the image of her eyes closed and mouth wide with pleasure, drove him over the edge. His hands and hips pumped in quick time, air seeming to rush from his lungs as he imagined everything he would give her. Leaning into the pillow next to stifle his moans, he shook with his orgasm, warmth rushing down over his hand and onto his stomach. "Katniss," he moaned, "Katniss, Katniss."


	2. Chapter 2

Even through the haze of his orgasm, he heard the click of the door opening and shutting. In the seconds it took him to grab something to wipe up and bunch the sheets around his waist, he silently prayed for it to be Haymitch or even Effie at the door. But when he opened his eyes it was Katniss, wrapped in a robe, hair wild and cascading down her back, eyes not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry," she began to say, hands moving to illustrate some point he didn't fully grasp, "I was getting ready to take a shower and I heard you… And I thought something was wrong."

It took him a moment until he realized exactly what that meant she had heard, and he felt himself blushing redder than a dozen different paint colors. He looked down at the sheet in his lap and then back up at Katniss, her eyes finally meeting his. Still reeling from his post-orgasmic haze and the blood still rushing to his brain, he opened his mouth to speak and a mess of words tumbled out.

"I just… with Johanna… and the elevator and I…" When he mentioned Johanna's name, Katniss' eyes narrowed in a way that gave Peeta the impression that if she would have had a bow in her hands, he would be dead. He took a breath to calm and steadied himself. "It's been so long since I've felt like a normal person." When he looked into Katniss' eyes, he saw them go a little softer, maybe a little sadder. "It's been so long since I've wanted anything other than to wake from this nightmare I've been trapped in since the games." The room was silent for a moment before he continued. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. And wanting you. And I'm sorry."

Peeta looked down at the floor, giving her a chance to exit quietly without adding to either of their embarrassments. Instead, he heard the gentle whisper of Katniss' bare feet moving across the floor towards him and felt the sway of her settling onto the other end of the bed.

"You once told me you didn't want to forget what happened in the games." she said.

"And I still don't."

"I can't forget. There are moments when I feel like I never left the arena. Like I'm still fighting for my life." Katniss squared her shoulders, like she was fighting for the courage to speak. "I forget sometimes that not that long ago we were real people; that this wasn't our life." She closed the space between them on the bed, close enough now for Peeta to see every shade of the sky in her eyes. "I want to remember that." It was a whisper. "Make me remember that."

With a lean, she brought her face closer to Peeta's. His fingers tangling in her hair, he pulled her closer and their mouths met. He was acutely aware, in days and hours, of how little time he had left to kiss this girl; how few opportunities there were to remember who they really were, before their names had been plucked from a bowl.

Katniss leaned into him, the weight of her body pushing him back into the mattress. Her hair fell against his face, tickling him gently as their mouths met and tongues intertwined. Her hand drifted across his bare chest, his hand reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. When they separated for a moment to catch their breath, Peeta looked up at Katniss, his eyes glassy and his lungs trying to catch up with the quick beats of his heart.

Katniss' hands moved to the front of her robe and Peeta covered them with one of his hands.

"You don't have to." he said.

"I want to forget anything else." Her hands slipped away from his, unknotting her robe. "I want to forget everything, but you and me in this moment. I want to remember I have a choice. And I choose this." Her robe fell away against the bed sheets and in the half dark of the room, he felt her shyness.

Peeta kissed her mouth, then her neck, trailing his mouth along her shoulder. "You're beautiful" he said, and he felt her ease into him a little more. He kissed back along her collar bone, pulling her closer and under the bed sheet with him. Face to face on their sides, she reached out to him again, closing the space between them. Peeta felt the press of her breasts into his chest and felt himself beginning to stiffen again as their thighs met.

Katniss kissed along his jaw, finding his ear with her teeth. Her breath was hot and fast against him and his hands travelled down from her shoulders, over her breasts. As his thumbs brushed over her nipples, he was certain she could hear the thunderclaps of his heartbeat. Her breath was a gentle groan in his ear now as he squeezed her breasts, tugging softly on the nipples. With her hips pressing into and moving against him, he was fully erect now. In this moment, Peeta was reminded of the kind of control it took to be a gentleman. They continued kissing, their mouths finding spots under jaws, along necks, that needed to be explored and remembered. Moving his hands over her breasts, Peeta let them drift lower to cup her ass, pulling her as tight against him as he could. They moved together like this, for a few moments, Katniss' breathing now punctuated with moans.

Peeta let one hand drift forward, slowly and cautiously, almost needing a moment to find the courage or waiting to wake up from some strange and fantastical dream. Letting his hand come to rest on her abdomen, he waited. Katniss pushed against his hand, her own hand reaching to pull him close enough to kiss his mouth. Gently, he slid his hand down, feeling his heartbeat in every part of him. He was surprised to find she wasn't bare like he had seen on Johnanna.

Katniss opened her legs and Peeta took one finger, tentatively slipping it between her folds. The noise that escaped Katniss was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. Using the same finger, he explored; she was slick and his finger stroked easily against her. He brushed his finger against her clit, eliciting a needy moan as she pushed her body against his hand. Feeling her breasts push into his chest as her back arched, he stroked again. Building a rhythm, Peeta moved his fingers in slow circles interspersed with quick strokes. Her breath was erratic and her voice a needy mewl in his ear.

He didn't feel her hand leave his neck and wasn't aware of where it travelled until he felt it against his thigh. For a moment his mind travelled back to the first time her hand had been so close to him – inspecting the damage Cato's sword had inflicted on his leg. His hand paused in its movement and he shook his head to clear away that memory.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her hand lifting away slightly.

Peeta kissed her then, long and slow; rooting his mind in this moment, with Katniss. When her hand brushed the head of his cock, the kiss turned into a long, low moan. Dipping his head beneath the sheet, he lowered his mouth to her breasts. They were the same olive tone as her skin, full and round, her nipples still hard. His fingers slid over her wetness again, slowly, twisting and sliding one finger in and out of her as he sucked each nipple, pulling gently with his teeth.

As Katniss moved her hand along his cock, he fought every urge he felt to begin thrusting into her palm. He sighed, resting his face against her shoulder and she wrapped her hand around his cock. The circle of her hand moved up and down his shaft, slowly and tentatively at first. Looking up into her face, his finger still moving in and out of her, Peeta saw her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip gently. Her hips pushed down into his hand as he brought his thumb up to push against her clit. Katniss' moan came from the back of her throat, her hand tightening around his dick.

He was still fighting the urge to thrust into her hand, instead enjoying the feeling of her strokes finding a faster rhythm, spreading the precome from the tip of his stiffness, down the length. Short moans and pants taking up his breath, he focused again and moved his hand against her. He added another finger to the first, moving two fingers in and out of her, his thumb circling her clit. Her head was back against the pillow now, hair spread around her in the darkness. She was trying to control her cries, but he could tell she was barely hanging on. Her thighs quivered, moving her hips against him over and over, meeting his hand. He felt the rhythm of her hand on his cock begin to falter as her hips moved down on him a last time.

"Peeta, oh Peeta." It was low and hushed, and he felt her squeeze around his fingers, warmth and wetness flowing over them. She continued moaning, her head thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open. When she finally stilled, Peeta moved his hand away slowly, kissing her softly on the mouth. When she opened her eyes, she smiled at him and it was enough to make him smile back at her.

Her smile turned up in one corner of her mouth as Katniss used one hand to push Peeta down into the bed. Her hand had fallen away from stroking him while she had focused on her orgasm, but now as she kissed him, it returned to its original position. She moved down his body, planting a kiss on his chest, then along his ribcage and finally above his belly button. When she paused above him, she met his eyes and he watched as she licked across the head of his cock.

Katniss closed her mouth over him, tongue and lips wrapping around him. Her eyes didn't leave his as she moved her head down, taking him deeper in her mouth. The sounds that left his throat weren't ones he ever remembered making before. Peeta's hand reached out and found her hair, tangling in it as she licked slowly down one side of his dick before wrapping her mouth around him again. As much as he tried to control them, his hips pushed up from the sheets, his body bowing to meet Katniss' mouth. His moans began to run together into sighs and whines as he tried to hold himself back from exploding and prolong his pleasure.

It was when she began to swirl her tongue around the head of his cock that Peeta felt himself starting to lose control. "Katniss" he called, feeling a millions miles away from his body, "I'm going to come." His hips pulsed in time with her mouth and tongue and he couldn't hold back any longer, body shaking as he fully gave himself over to her. "Katniss" he cried again, hips tight against her mouth, his body arching with the pleasure of his orgasm.

Later, she was lying on his chest, hair still wild, spread over his body. Peeta reached out to stroke it, gently tucking it behind her ear. He kissed the top of her head and a faint smile crept along Katniss' lips.

"I remember" she said, before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
